A Return to Innocence
by PlatinumRoseLady
Summary: Spoiler Alert: Season 4. Set two days after Dean's revelation's in "Heaven and Hell". Both Winchester brothers are reeling and in great pain. What will happen when an old "friend" returns with a "gift"?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Kripke owns all… just borrowing the characters for a bit.

Language: One VERY bad word this chapter

Spoiler: Set a few days after "Heaven and Hell"

Chapter the First

The road stretched out in front of them, but it held no promises. They just seemed to be driving for the sake of driving.

It wasn't really driving, anyway, it was more like running. Running from guilt, from shame, from having to talk about what had happened. What could happen next. How they could go on. If they could go on.

It had been two days. Two days since Dean had to Sam about what had happened to him in Hell. Of the tortures he'd suffered… and the tortures he'd inflicted. When he told Sam he wished he couldn't feel anything any longer, it was because right up until that point he didn't think he could feel any worse.

He'd been wrong; now that Sam knew, he was convinced his brother hated him. Was ashamed of him… as ashamed as he was of himself. He had barely spoken to Sam since, could hardly bear to look his brother in eyes, afraid of what he would see.

Sam, for his part, WAS having a hard time meeting Dean's gaze, but not for the reasons Dean thought. The younger Winchester was torn up with his own feelings of guilt. The way he looked at it, it was his fault Dean had made that damn deal in the first place. His fault Dean had gone to Hell, had suffered the torments he had then. Was STILL suffering.

All his fault.

But since neither of them seemed to be able to find the words, silence hung over the interior of the Impala like thick smoke.

Silence and sadness.

It was while they were waiting at a red light (which seemed to be taking forever to turn green) that Sam began to get the feeling they were being watched. He turned a looked out his window at the playground on the other side of the street. It was deserted, which made sense since it was the middle of the afternoon.

Make that almost deserted. Sam saw the figure of a man walking by the swings, which began to sway back and forth as he passed. He walked by the merry-go-round, and it began to spin slowly, even though no hand had touched it.

Sam's hazel eyes widened as the person walked over to the chain-link fence and leaned on it. He stifled a groan as the man with longish blonde hair raised his hand in a cocky wave.

"Dean" he said softly. "Pull over to that playground."

"What?" The sound of Sam's voice seemed to awaken Dean from a trance. "Why do you want to…?"

"Look over at the fence", Sam replied through gritted teeth "and tell me that's not who I think it is."

Dean looked, shook his head, and looked again. He sighed, "Well, that's probably why the light's still red. He wanted us to notice him." He flipped the turn signal and headed towards the park.

Dean's eyes were suddenly full of anger. "We don't NEED this right now… we don't need HIM or his fucking pranks right now."

Sam just nodded grimly. Dean parked the car near the fence, then he and Sam both checked their guns (a useless gesture and they both knew it, but old habits die hard). They exited the Impala and walked, stiff-legged and soul-weary over towards the fence.

Where the Trickster was waiting. With a great big smile on his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Kripke owns all… just borrowing the characters for a bit.

Language: Some strong language

Spoiler: Set a few days after "Heaven and Hell"

_Then:_

Sam just nodded grimly. Dean parked the car near the fence, then he and Sam both checked their guns (a useless gesture and they both knew it, but old habits die hard). They exited the Impala and walked, stiff-legged and soul-weary over towards the fence.

Where the Trickster was waiting. With a great big smile on his face.

_Now:_

Chapter the Second

The Trickster's smile grew even wider as the Winchesters approached and entered the playground itself. "Dean and Sam Winchester! As I live and breathe! MAN, it's good to see you guys!" The mischievous demigod moved so quickly neither brother could register and suddenly he was standing between them, clapping them on the back like they were long separated friends he'd finally been reunited with. "I have been hearing the craziest stuff about about you two! All kinds of rumors that Sam was dead and Dean made this INSANE deal and…" The Trickster stopped talking as he started back and forth between the brothers.

Sam's eyes were clouded with sorrow and guilt.

Dean's were dark with rage and pain.

"Oh, wow…." the Trickster's eyes widened as the reactions of both men sunk in. "So it's TRUE?! All of it?!"

"What do you care?" Dean snarled, throwing off the Trickster's hand off his back with a violent shrug.

"Yeah, you upset that someone else got to make our lives more miserable that you?" Sam said, copying his brother's gesture and extracting himself from the demigod's grasp. His upper lip curled in a disdainful sneer. "Why did it take you so long to hear about it, anyway? I thought we were your favorite targets."

"Well, you're two of my favorite people, I'll admit. 'Targets' is such an ugly way to put it. But, honest, fellas, I only just found out about all that stuff. I heard about it from a flock of sprites who heard it from a herd of kelpies who heard it…"

"Oh just fucking SKIP it!" Dean roared in exasperation.

The Trickster pouted slightly. "Well, Sam did ask. I mean it's not like your buddies from" – he pointed upwards- "would even BOTHER to drop me a note."

"You mean you don't have any contact with –"Sam began to question.

"'Angels'?" The Trickster finished his sentence, and when Sam nodded the blonde gave out with a great whoop of laughter. "You've got to be joking! They're all about rules and order and everything be just SO!" He shook his head, long hair nearly whacking both brothers in the face. "No, nein, nyet, that's a big old negativo – we DEFINATLY don't hang in the same circles."

"So, now you know what happened" Dean said, his voice dull with anguish. Suddenly his eyes were almost sparking with fury as he glared at the Trickster. "So what? Come to gloat over it? Tell us it was even funnier than you getting us to fight each other? Or getting me killed over and over and almost driving Sam crazy?" Dean was literally starting to shake with anger, all the emotions from the last two days threatening to erupt forth like a volcano. "Because so help me, if you are, I know it won't kill you, but I will fill your fucking chest with lead RIGHT NOW!"

"And what Dean doesn't blow holes through, I will." Sam's voice had gone soft, but the venom behind his words was as powerful as a rattlesnake's strike.

The Trickster suddenly backed away from the Winchesters, hands raised up in the Universal "Don't Kill Me" gesture. "Whoa, whoa, WHOA! Now hold on second, boys! Nobody's gonna shoot anybody today!" He paused, thinking about that statement. "Well, I mean that's not accurate; I'm sure someone's going to shoot someone today, but you two are NOT going to be shooting ME. In fact, let's get rid of that little temptation right now." With a snap of his fingers, Dean and Sam felt their guns suddenly disappear from their waistbands. "That's better – oh don't get yourselves all worked up. Your guns are back in your car." An odd look suddenly came over the Trickster's face; if Sam didn't know who they were dealing with, he would have sworn it was sympathy. "You two really have been through the wringer, huh?" He looked over at Dean, and the hunter tried to hold his gaze steady as he could almost FEEL the Trickster staring right into his soul. "And you went through all that for Sam here." He gave out with a low whistle. "You know, just when I thought I'd seen everything with humans, along come you two."

"Glad we amuse you so much. Now will you please fucking get lost?" Dean hissed, his voice brittle and so very tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of feeling. Tired of everything.

The Trickster had other plans. He shook his head and said "Nope, that I can't do. No, scratch that – that I WON'T do. You guys have me all wrong! I'm not a bad guy – I just like to have fun, that's all." He scowled, and the brothers could feel the immense power inside the mercurial being begin to build. "No way can I just walk off into the sunset. Not after seeing you two like this. You need to get some positive vibes happening. You need to…hmmm…" his voice trailed off as he became lost in thought.

Sam looked at Dean. Dean looked at Sam. And both brothers were thinking the same thing.

_Oh shit._


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Kripke owns all… just borrowing the characters for a bit.

Language: Some strong language

Spoiler: Set a few days after "Heaven and Hell"

_Then:_

Sam looked at Dean. Dean looked at Sam. And both brothers were thinking the same thing.

_Oh shit._

_Now:_

Chapter the Third

The grin that suddenly covered the Trickster's face made Sam's heart drop straight into his stomach. "Dean, I think we'd better…"

Dean sighed. "I know Sam – RUN!" Before either Winchester could get a foot off the ground, however, the demigod snapped his fingers again, and the pair was unable to move. They both frantically pulled at their legs, but it felt like their feet had grown roots and were firmly planted in the playground's soil. Sam's breath was starting to sound labored and more than a little panicked, while Dean was actually growling with fury.

After everything they'd been through, they were once again the targets of the Trickster. Who knew what the powerful creature had planned for them? What pains they would have to suffer, to their bodies or their minds?

"Uh-uh-uh!" The Trickster scolded, wagging his index finger at them. "No running off! You'll like this game; I promise you'll like it!" He walked over to the merry-go-round, gave the contraption a spin, stopped it with his foot. He crooked a finger at Dean and then patted the metal floor. "Dean, you sit here, please."

Dean glared at the man, his eyes burning with ire. "Fuck you" he spat, "I'm not going anywhere near that thing! I'd r-rather… HEY!!!!" But even as he spoke those brave words, to his horror he realized his legs were moving of their own accord. Or rather, of the Trickster's accord. Sam cried out as his brother passed him and tried to grab a handful of his jacket to impede Dean's progress, almost sobbing as his fingers missed by half an inch.

"Patience, Sam!" The Trickster called to him. "You'll be over here in a minute, too! Right now," he flashed a gleaming smile at a scowling Dean, "I've got to get big brother here situated. C'mon, Dean, don't you want to know what the game is now? This'll go a lot easier if you quit fighting. Take your seat." The last sentence was said more as a command than an offer.

Stiffly, eyes blazing with ferocity, Dean walked over and sat down where commanded to on the ride. He flinched a little as the cold metal hit the seat of his jeans. He felt himself being pushed backwards until his back was right up against the pole at the center of the merry-go-round. He glared up at the grinning man standing above him. "Do what you want to me" he said through clenched teeth, "but let Sam go. _Please._" Dean hated how desperate he sounded, but this was Sam he was talking about. If it meant being the Trickster's plaything for the rest of time, so long as Sam got away he could live with it.

The Trickster gave out with an exaggerated sigh. "For the millionth time, Dean, this isn't going to hurt! You're going to like this game! It's going to be so much fun for all of us!" The demigod paused again: he seemed to be mulling over his words with a great amount of care. "You know, calling this a game is being a bit misleading. I mean, is it going to be a game, don't get me wrong, but it's also going to be something else."

"Oh, really?" Dean huffed, trying to pull himself from the ride. It was no good; he was stuck like a fly in amber. "Care to enlighten me?"

The Trickster bent down so that he was eye to eye with Dean. "Consider it a gift. Or maybe another way to say it would be some 'downtime'." That look of actual sympathy, of real kindness was one his face once more. "Look me in the face and tell me you both don't need some of that, Dean."

"I-I…" Dean didn't have the faintest idea what to say, and so the truth sprang unhindered from his lips. "Yeah, yeah we do." His voice was barley above a whisper.

"Good boy," the demigod practically purred. He stood up again, reached out and lightly touched Dean's spiky blonde hair. He tried to move his head away from the slight, almost tickling touch, when the strangest feeling suddenly enveloped his mind. All of a sudden Dean could hardly keep his eyes open, found it very hard to think straight…

And he didn't care. He felt like his whole body was wrapped in a warm blanket, like everything suddenly had a soothing, pleasant fog around it. He felt so comfortable, so very safe and – something he never thought he'd feel again – so utterly happy. A faint smile played around his lips, and a soft laugh bubbled up from his throat.

"DEAN!" Sam screamed, trying to get his legs to move, to run to his brother's aid, but to no avail. "What did you do to him, you bastard?!"

"Why the same thing I'm gonna do to you, Sammy boy" replied the Trickster, once again raising that beckoning finger. "C'mon over here Sam and take your seat. Can't get this party started without you."

"N-no, no, NO!" Sam's legs felt like lead, but they were suddenly walking over to the merry-go-round. "Dean! DEAN! Snap out of it, man!" Sam hollered at he passed his brother. "You've gotta fight it!"

Dean looked up at Sam as he passed, his eyes half-closed and that dreamy smile still in place. "It's okay, Sammy" he said, his voice distant and giggly. "It's okay…"

"Listen to your brother, Sam" the Trickster instructed as he walked with the young hunter over to the opposite side of the merry-go-round from where Dean was sitting. Sam struggled, battling his own body, but it was no use and he was crammed rather uncomfortably into the space, his back against the pole. He tried desperately to avoid the hand that reached out to ruffle his long hair…

… and then he couldn't remember why he'd wanted to do such a silly thing. Everything felt so different now – so very wonderful. The guilt was gone, the fear and the pain and self-doubt had vanished. All that was left were warm, fuzzy feelings that left Sam feeling so blissful that he just leaned back and let them wash over him.

"Feel better?" Ask the Trickster, taking a step back to survey his work.

Sam nodded as a twin of Dean's euphoric smile crossed over his face. "Uh-huh… so wha happns now?" Why was he having such a hard time talking? His voice sounded so funny to his own ears he chuckled, and Dean joined in.

"Now", replied the Trickster "now we start the return, boys." He gave the merry-go-round a gentle push and it began to slowly turn. Dean and Sam both leaned their heads back, eyes closed, looking totally at peace. The demigod held out his hands, and a soft blue light issued from them, landing on the Winchesters.

The Trickster grinned.

"A return to innocence."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Kripke owns all… just borrowing the characters for a bit.

Spoiler: Set a few days after "Heaven and Hell"

_Then:_

The Trickster grinned.

"A return to innocence."

_Now:_

Chapter the Fourth

The merry-go-round spun for exactly four revolutions, then came to a sudden stop.

The Trickster looked over his work with a pleased grin. Dean was facing him, his eyes closed, and that same cute smile on his face. He knew that Sam was in the same state; ready for whatever the demigod had planned for him.

_Time to get to work_ he thought, rubbing his hands together. _ This is going to be great!_

He knelt down so he was eye-level with Dean, and gently placed his hand on the man's right shoulder. "Hey," he said softly, "hey there, little guy. Wake up."

Dean's eyes fluttered open, and he looked around sleepily. When he gazed into the Trickster's face, his eyes were as wide and innocent as a child's. He yawned, blinked, and stared guilelessly into the face of the man kneeling down in front of him. Five minutes earlier Dean would have spat in the Trickster's face, or taken a swing at him. Now, however when the Trickster smiled at him, Dean shyly smiled back.

"Well, sleepyhead, glad you finally decided to come back to us! You remember me, don't you?" Dean frowned a little, an adorable pout, and slowly shook his head. Things were so confusing and fuzzy right now! "You don't?!" the Trickster exclaimed, feigning shock. "I'm your Uncle James! You and Sammy are spending the day with me at the park, remember?"

Dean thought very hard. "U-Uncle James?" Something deep within his psyche seemed to click. Suddenly his face broke into a delighted smile and he nodded eagerly. "Uh-huh! I 'member you!" he said, and the sound of his voice almost sent the Trickster to the ground in a fit of laughter. It was still Dean Winchester's voice, still that deep tone… and yet it wasn't. It was softer, sweeter, unburdened by the life he'd been forced to live, free from the horrors of his memories of his time in Hell.

It was the voice of a four-year-old boy, in the body of a man in his twenties.

_Oh, this is PERFECT!_ The Trickster congratulated himself. _ That memory spell's working like a charm with the deaging spell. That's gonna make things so much easier!_

"That's right, Dean, and I guess your old Uncle James has been running you and your little brother a little ragged! You've been playing so hard you both fell asleep on the merry-go-round here. But you look pretty rested up now…" He gave Dean a playful "beep" on the nose, who giggled and squirmed with delight. "So I guess you two can get back to playing some more! C'mon, let go wake up your brother."

"'kay, Uncle James!" Dean replied, holding his hands out in front of him. "Uncle James" smiled, took his hands, and hauled the man into a standing position (which nearly sent them both sprawling to the ground). They walked around to the other side of the merry-go-round, where Sam was still dozing, his long frame curled up into a ball. His head hung forward a little bit, and his bangs hung down into his face, making him look very young and vulnerable.

Dean charged forward to wake up his brother, but "Uncle James" laid a firm hand on his arm. "Better let me wake him up, Dean. You know that sometimes Sammy gets scared easily."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot." Dean toed the dirt with his boot, looking most contrite. "Sorry, Uncle James."

"Oh, it's okay, Dean! I know you can't wait to start playing again." The hunter-turned-child's emerald green eyes lit up at the word "play". "You just trust Uncle James." He gave Dean a thumbs up sign, which Dean copied with a beaming smile.

"Uncle James" turned back to Sam, knelt down and thought_ let's see if this works. According to the deaging spell, they're both supposed to be four years old, and the memory spell will keep them from thinking up any awkward questions. _ He reached out and gently cupped Sam's chin in his right hand. "Sam? Sammy? C'mon, wake up now."

Sam wriggled a little in the seat, and he gave out with a soft mewling sound that would be the envy of any kitten. His eyes flickered open, and for a brief moment there was a flash of fear in those hazel orbs. Were was he? What was going on? He'd been having such a nice dream…

"Uncle James", however, was quick to soothe. "It's okay, Sammy, it's alright. You just fell asleep. Everything's okay, Uncle James is here." He ran his thumb against Sam's cheek, intensifying the memory-altering spell. Dean had been a total innocent to the supernatural at four; Sam had not, and the Trickster wanted this game to run smoothly. A little memory modification and all Sam would know was that he was four years old, that Dean was his big brother, and that his parents had left them with Uncle James for the day. As far as Dean knew, Mommy and Daddy were still alive and safe, and Sam was his baby brother. The spell would also ensure the brothers wouldn't wonder why they were both four years old; they simply were, and that was that.

"You're alright now, right Sammy? You remember playing all morning and then -"

"Got sleepy", Sam murmured, and scrubbed his hand over his eyes. His voice sounded just as free and childlike as Dean's. He stretched and yawned, and threw his arms around "Uncle James" in a crushing hug. Sam looked up at the man through his lashes, and softly said, "Hi, Uncle James", then buried his head in the man's shoulder, the very picture of childhood sweetness.

"Uncle James" (after trying to get some air back into his lungs – BROTHER, could Sam hug!) gently smoothed down Sam's hair, and said "Hi yourself, silly." Sam raised his head and giggled lightly. "Don't you think it's time you and your brother stopped wasting this fine afternoon and got back to having fun?"

"Yeah, come ON, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed, practically dancing with untapped energy. "Let's play Tag!"

Sam looked up at "Uncle James" who gave him a nod and a wink. If it was possible, Sam's smile got even brighter as he let go of the man, and stood up. In an instant, Sam darted past Dean, lightly touching him on the shoulder.

"Tag, Dean! You're IT!" Sam yelled as he darted away with the speed only someone with his long legs could possess.

Dean stared back at "Uncle James", who shrugged. "You gonna take that? Go get him, Dean!"

Dean nodded, grinned, at took off after his brother, and the air was filled with happy shouts and trills of laughter.

A/N: Where the name "Uncle James" came from will be revealed next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Kripke owns all… lucky son of a gun.

Author's Notes: Thanks so very much to everyone who has taken time to review, and muchas gracias to the person who left their review in Spanish! My Spanish is… um, well it's terrible, but I did figure out that you liked the story so far which makes me muy feliz y adulado!

Language Warning: One bad word, which for me has to be some kind of record

Spoiler: Set a few days after "Heaven and Hell"

_Then:_

Dean nodded, grinned, at took off after his brother, and the air was filled with happy shouts and trills of laughter.

_Now:_

Chapter the Fifth

The Trickster leaned back against the merry-go-round, watched the two grown men playing a child's game, their eyes almost glowing with joy. Dean Winchester, it seemed, was good at a lot of things, but he was absolutely LOUSY at Tag. Sam caught him easily over and over again, but it didn't seem to diminish Dean's spirit one bit. He'd just get right up and start running after Sam again, who somehow managed to run and shriek with laughter at the same time.

His eyes narrowed as he watched them, and a grin suddenly split the demigod's features. His earlier assessment had been wrong; upon closer observation he could see that Dean was letting Sam catch him time after time. He shook his head; even as children, Dean put his brother's happiness first, even in something as simple as a game of Tag.

The Trickster wondered idly if this whole game actually qualified as a good deed. Granted it was still FUNNY as anything, watching the two seasoned hunters chase each around the playground calling out things like "Tag! I got you Sammy!" and "Nu-uh! You can't catch me, Dean!" He just knew that the Winchesters both were going to be embarrassed beyond belief once he let them "grow up" again. No WAY was he letting them forget these memories.

But he had to admit, that it also felt kinda… nice to see the two of them like this; laughing, happy, being playful and carefree. Especially after getting a glimpse into Dean's ordeal. Trust Hell and its denizens to take a guy like Dean, so passionate, so full of life and drain all the fun out of him; and with such crude methods, too. And for them to fuck with Sam's head so much. That irritated the demigod to no end – it was HIS job to play with the young Winchester's mind. He did it so much better, with far more panache.

_Demons,_ he snorted derisively. _No sense of style. No finesse._

When he'd thought up this game, he'd only intended to deage one of the Winchesters, leaving the other to care for their newly childlike sibling. He had figured it would be good for a laugh and maybe they'd learn a lesson about enjoying the time one has and the benefits of letting go of guilt. The problem had been in choosing which one to change. Since the last time he'd encountered them they were now both in danger of being crushed beneath their own personal weights of regret and shame. So now he might have to pick one, to decide who needed his "gift" more.

He'd hated that idea, and promptly tossed it. The way he saw it, being a Trickster was all about giving people choices, not having to make them himself.

So he'd split the difference, and now both Dean and Sam could enjoy a second childhood. For a little bit, anyway.

And from the looks of things, enjoying it they most certainly were. The Tag game abandoned, Sam was sitting at on the edge of the playground's sandbox, his large hands gently sculpting mounds of sand into a pretty impressive sized castle. He smiled as he worked, dimples deepening in his face as pushed the dirt around and hummed a tuneless little song. He raised his head and gazed over at "Uncle James" with a look of pure happiness. The demigod nodded at the blossoming fortress with a grin.

"Looking good there, Sammy!" he said. "That's going to be one nice looking castle when you're finished!"

Sam fairly glowed with praise, and his laughter rang through the air like music. The demigod was truly amused to no end that uber-serious, "We don't have TIME for your nonsense" Sam had turned out to be such a giggly child. "Thank you, Uncle James! It's gonna be the bestest castle ever!"

Dean, however, was just as the Trickster thought he'd be as a boy: rambunctious, quick, and always ready for another adventure.

Speaking of Dean, he had discovered the Monkey Bars, and had scaled them with the grace he possessed even as a youngster. He sat up at the top of the bars, and waved over at the Trickster.

"Watch me, Uncle James! Watch me!" Dean called out. A moment later he was hanging upside-down, legs wrapped firmly around the bars, his fingers nearly brushing the ground.

The Trickster chuckled to himself. _I'm getting soft in my Old Age._ _I'm actually enjoying this; just watching two humans being happy. _ He got up from his perch on the Merry-Go-Round, and walked over to the Monkey Bars.

He placed himself behind the hunter, and put his hand on his back. "That was awesome, Dean! Great job! Let's get you down, buddy…" He helped Dean land gently on the ground, the momentum sending the pair of them to the ground, each landing on their backsides. Sitting there beneath the metal structure, the demigod laughed and gave Dean another wink. Dean winked back, and gave him the thumbs up sign he'd seen his "uncle" do earlier, along with another sweet smile.

"Monkey see, monkey do, huh?" "Uncle James" reached over and once again ruffled his hair, but this time he didn't pull away. If anything, the other man fairly glowed with happiness at the gesture.

Dean rolled his eyes, and then shook his head. "Not a monkey" he said firmly.

"Oh? Are you sure?" When he gave an emphatic nod, the Trickster asked, "Well, if you're not a monkey, what are you?" He casually flipped open Dean's phone (which he'd lifted off of him as he'd helped Dean right himself). He thumbed down through the features, stopping on the camera. He pointed the phone in Dean's direction with a very Trickster-esque smirk.

_Maybe I have gone soft,_ he thought,_ but not THAT soft. _

"I'm a boy!" Dean replied, repeating the eye roll. _ Click._ Grown-ups asked the silliest questions sometimes, even cool ones like "Uncle James".

_When I grow up I'm not gonna ask __silly questions__,_ Dean decided,_ I'm just gonna do… stuff. Whatever cool grown-ups do._

"I don't know…" the Trickster retorted. "You were climbing all over those Monkey Bars pretty fast, just like a real monkey would." Dean clapped his hand over his mouth to stem the tide of laughter that was spilling out. _ Click._ He shook his head again, eyes shining, shoulders shaking with mirth. _ Click._ "If you're a little boy-"

Whipping his hand away from his mouth, Dean cried out indignantly "I'm not a LITTLE boy!" Holding up four fingers, he was oblivious to the soft_ clicks_ of the phone's camera going off. "I'm four! That mean's I'm a big boy! Daddy says so! He says I'm a big boy, and I gotta help take care of Sammy 'cause he's my baby brother."

"Well, if Daddy says so, it must be so. Do you like taking helping to take care of Sammy?"

This question seemed to stump Dean for a minute, his eyes almost growing a slightly darker shade of green as he pondered. "Yep. He's my 'spo-sponsablil-something."

"Responsibility."

"Uh-huh. What you said. He needs me to show him how to do stuff. You know…" His voice trailed off as he looked over at Sam, who was so engrossed in his sand castle that a stampeding herd of elephants wouldn't have disturbed him. He leaned a little closer to "Uncle James" like he was about to impart some huge secret. "…sometimes Sammy can be VERY silly. But I still like to help take care of him."

"Oh, I SEE… he's not quite as grown-up as you are, huh?"

Dean shook his head. "Nope. But that's okay. Even when he's silly, I still love him."

"Speaking of your brother, don't you think he's being a little too quiet? We'd better go check on him, huh?"

"'kay! Can we play on the swings, Uncle James?" Dean asked, hopping to his feet.

"Well, that's what they're there for, kiddo!" "Uncle James" stood up and the pair of them walked over to the sandbox, where Sam was placing the finishing touches of a rather impressive sand castle.

"Wow, Sammy" Dean's eyes were wide "that's really cool!"

Sam ducked his head, and a blush began to race along his cheeks. "Y-you really like it, Dean?" He turned and gazed up at the Trickster. "Do you like it, Uncle James?"

"Sammy, I think that's the finest sand castle this old playground's ever gonna see. In fact, it's so nice…" he held up the cell phone "I'm going to take a picture so everyone can see how good it is. Now sit up straight right there and let me take –"

"Um, Uncle James?" Sam held his hand out towards his brother. "Want Dean in the picture, too. Please?" He looked so shy about asking.

Dean turned and whispered to "Uncle James" "See? He's so silly." He sat down next to Sam, who promptly threw his right arm around Dean's shoulders.

"Great, you two! Now hold very still and say 'don't you dare take my picture!'"

Dean tried to say the phrase super fast, which got Sam giggling again, which naturally got Dean giggling, which afforded the Trickster the opportunity to snap a TON of photos of the Winchesters in total hysterics. When the two of them calmed down enough, he said "I don't think those swings are going to start by themselves, boys!"

"C'mon, Dean! Let's go!" Sam said excitedly, taking of at a run for the large swing set. As the two of them raced for the swings, Dean turned back to the Trickster, a slight look of concern on his face.

"Something wrong, buddy?" The demigod questioned.

"Aren't you gonna play, too?" Dean asked.

"I'm going to be right there, Dean, don't worry. Get over there and have fun."

Dean opened his mouth to sat something else, when Sam yelled to him "Dean, can you push me?" He gave "Uncle James" one last look, then ran over to give his brother a push.

"Yeah, I'll be right along boys. Uncle James needs to make a phone call first", said the Trickster, smiling as he pulled up the number on Dean's phone.

(A/N: Okay, so I was wrong. Why the Trickster picked the name "James" will be revealed in the next chapter. Really. I promise.)


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Kripke owns all… lucky son of a gun.

Language Warning: Some strong language

Spoiler: Set a few days after "Heaven and Hell"

Author's Notes: A HUGE amount of thanks to sidjack for her help, Angelustatt for her feedback, and KadySN for sheer awesome-possumness. You gal's rocketh my socks!

_Then:_

"Yeah, I'll be right along boys. 'Uncle James' needs to make a phone call first," said the Trickster, smiling as he pulled up the number on Dean's phone.

_Now:_

Chapter The Sixth

The cell phone went off with a shrill sound, pulling the man from his studies of a book on ancient Babylonian burial rites. He reached over, grabbed the phone out from under the pile of papers it had been buried beneath, looked at the number. His heart instantly started to beat a little faster; the only time Dean seemed to call anymore was if something was wrong.

Bobby Singer sent out a quick prayer to whoever was listening that the news wasn't of major cataclysmic proportions for the two men he'd grown to love as sons, and clicked open the phone.

"Dean?"

"_Bzzt! I'm sorry, but Dean can't come to the phone right now, he's kinda busy" _chirped the voice on the other end of the line – a voice that was most assuredly NOT Dean Winchester. Bobby scowled – this wasn't good. Whoever he was, the man sounded beyond pleased with himself, and although his voice had a somewhat familiar ring, the older hunter couldn't quite place it.

"Who is this?" he asked.

"_I made THAT little of an impression on you? Dang, I really need to try harder…" _

"Who in the hell is this?" Bobby growled, his patience wearing thin. "And where's Dean?"

"_I told you, Bobby – can I call you Bobby, by the way? Always liked that name better than 'Robert'. Or 'Bob'. Anyway, Dean's __busy__. Sam is too, so don't even bother asking for him."_

For the first time Bobby began to notice the background noise wherever the call was coming from. It sounded like a playground or a schoolyard; he could hear shouting and laughter, but couldn't quite make out the voices. What were the Winchesters doing there? And who was this smug bastard that somehow had a hold of Dean's phone? He took a deep breath, tried to keep his voice level. "I'm gonna ask you one last time, Mister…"

"_Oh, I've gone by so many names throughout the years, sometimes it's hard to keep track of them all. I-"_ The voice suddenly cut away from the phone; the speaker was apparently talking to someone else for a moment. _"Sammy, quit spinning around like that, the chains won't_ _hold and_ _you'll make yourself puke. Sit back up and – there we go! Good boy!" _The voice came closer to the receiver again. _"What a little handful! Well, not exactly a little handful, but… What were we talking about? Oh! That's right. For right now you can call me Dean and Sammy's 'Uncle James.'"_ A small chuckle with a slight undercurrent of malice reached Bobby's ear.

"_Or I can go by 'James Jesse', if you prefer." _

Bobby wracked his brains; he was certain the caller was giving him some kind of backhanded clue to his true identity, since he knew damn well Dean and Sam (Where did this idjit get off calling him "Sammy", anyway? More to the point, why was Sam allowing it?) didn't have an "Uncle James".

And why did the name "James Jesse" sound so dang familiar?

It took him a moment, but then he realized where he'd heard that moniker before. James Jesse was a foe of the comic book hero known as The Flash, and his criminal alias was…

Bobby's hand tightened so hard over the cell phone it was a testimony to its makers that it didn't shatter in his grip. "Trickster" he snarled, the word loaded with fury.

"_Ding, got in one! Congratulations! Y'know, I don't care what everyone else says about you, Bobby – you're one smart guy!" _

"Where are the Winchesters? What have you done with them?"

An annoyed huff popped down the line. _ "Does this sound like I've done anything with them?"_ The phone was held out again so he could hear the noises more clearly.

The sounds made the breath catch in Bobby's throat; he never thought he would hear them again. Dean and Sam, their voices so light and playful, laughing so freely, so unfettered by… everything. For a brief moment he was happy, until he remembered who he was talking to, who was responsible for this… whatever "this" was. NOTHING the Trickster did was done without strings attached, and those strings could quickly turn into a noose.

"I'll rephrase the question, then," Bobby growled. "What have you done to them?"

"_Oh for crying out loud! You Hunters are all so freaking paranoid! A good psychiatrist would make a fortune dealing with you guys! Well done, you've figured it out: I've locked them in a room full of __Laughing Gas__ and… oooh, you know that's actually a really good one! I'll have to write that down, save it for another time… dammit, you never have a notebook around when you want one. Maybe I can type that idea into the phone someplace. Hey, do you know where Dean got this phone? It's really nice. Wonder what kind of minutes you get with this thing. Takes great pictures, let me tell you."_

"Pictures? Pictures of what?" Bobby asked, although he had a sinking feeling he knew the answer.

"_Why, of the boys, of course! Got to save these kinds of moments for posterity, you know. You should see them, Bobby. They're having __so__ much – Dean, don't try and stand up on that, buddy, you'll fall flat on your face – fun." _ A slight pause. _ "Yes, you really do need to see this. I know you're a big part of the guys' lives, right? I mean, you SHOULD have been able to talk to them before things had gotten as bad as they have-"_

"Now just one damn minute!" Bobby roared. Demigod or not, there was no way he was taking that laying down. "Don't you DARE lecture me about what I could have done for those boys, you son of a bitch! You think for one minute I would've just LET Dean do something so –"

"_Okay, okay, that was a bit of cheap shot, I'll admit. I mean, it's not like anyone can get between a __Winchester__ and their whole 'I've got to be all noble and self-sacrificing' vibe, right? But I was serious, Bobby – you need to be here."_

"Where's 'here', exactly'?" Bobby said, rising up from his chair. If he could keep the Trickster talking, maybe he could stall for enough time to grab some stakes and –

"_That's for me to know and you to find out"_ came the reply._ "You just quit looking around for a stake and walk to your front door."_

That last remark brought the hunter up short. "How did you –"?

A fond chuckle escaped the Trickster's lips. Humans… they were just so predictable. _ "Dude, I wouldn't NEED to be a demigod to know that right now you're looking for a weapon or twenty right now. Now will you please just do what I said?"_

Bobby's shoulders straightened and a determined gleam came into his eyes as he adjusted his hat. Whatever the Trickster's game was, it was apparent that for Sam and Dean's sakes he was going to have to play it. He walked over to his front door, put his hand on the knob. "Okay, I'm here."

"_Now shut your eyes."_

"You've gotta be kidding me. What the hell for?"

"_Not the best time to be questioning me, Bobby. Just do it." _ Snarling, the man obeyed. _ "Now just open the door and walk out."_

Bobby took a deep breath, and stepped out the door.

**Ah, yes, a cliffhanger. I know, I know, I'm just THAT evil.**


End file.
